Pain, Canes, and Suffering
by HouseAddict16
Summary: House and Wilson are together, story set in the future where House experiences increased pain and it leads to some drastic measures.
1. Chapter 1

Pain Canes and Suffering Ch. 1

Once he moved in, the line between what was House and what was Wilson had been blurred. Now they shared everything much like many couples do. This included from the living spaces all the way to the life altering decisions. Now having been together for a few years they had each others habits, mannerisms and schedules committed to memory. 

Unfortunately for the both of them that also meant there were medications to memorize. House's pain failed to decrease or even plateau which meant constant medication. As the months progressed the dosages and frequency of administration increased about as frequently as the amount of pills taken increased. He was now not only on Vicodin for pain but was also on an anti-emetic for the vomiting, a laxative for the constipation, muscle relaxants for the increasing spasms and a multi-vitamin to help prevent further illness.

With House's health digressing slowly, the introduction of a relationship with his best friend could have made the problem worse. Wilson now had to make sure that he kept the right balance of friend, doctor and partner. While he made sure everything was taken when it was needed and that his friend was doing alright he had to also keep his distance. It was an even more delicate balance than it was prior to them considering their friendship a relationship.

Wilson became the watch dog, he monitored House silently and made mental notes of when days were bad and the consistency of those days, when meds needed to be refilled, as well as how House was feeling, what he felt up to doing and what he distanced himself from. Spending so many years with House, Wilson could now tell how the morning was going to be by how House got out of bed, he could even tell how his day went by how he was sitting on the couch when Wilson returned home. House knew just as many specifics about Wilson. How his day went by what he did as soon as he came home, if he slept well by how Wilson walked and acted through his morning routine, and when he wasn't feeling well by how talkative and energetic he was throughout the day. 

They were obviously great for each other, an almost perfect pair. The only thing that got both of them down was the increasing in the now obvious amount of pain House had been steadily gaining. His Vicodin levels had doubled since the previous year and he was getting breakthrough pain on almost a daily basis. He looked haggard more and more frequently, spent more time in his office away from everyone and rarely caused chaos for Cuddy. He just didn't have the energy like he did when he was in less pain. For House to refrain from a prank or an intolerable medical move was what got Cuddy interested in House's discomfort. He would only make a gutsy medical call when he was sure that was what needed to be done. His lack of motivation to even fight medically was a sure sign that something bigger was going on. 

Wilson watched as the pain slowly took the House he knew away from him. It had happened to him once, when the infarction first happened. House was new to the pain and the lack of mobility. Wilson stuck by and eventually regained most of his best friend back. Now it was happening all over again. House had become withdrawn in the sense that he wasn't up to his antics, was very quiet, and even more firm in his decisions. The team had long been changed from the original three of Chase, Cameron and Foreman to three people he barely spoke about. They were there only for him to bounce ideas off of and to tell him when his ideas were too obscure to be correct.

Wilson knew that if he didn't make a mention of this problem that he could lose his House forever, but he didn't know how to lead into that big discussion. It was always a touchy subject, House's emotions and physical feelings. He barely told Wilson when he had a cold or the flu until Wilson could see it in House's eyes, when the fever was obvious and he just looked sick. House had looked sick for far too long by Wilson's standards.

Wilson joined House on the couch; his posture said today was alright. He could tell by House's scent that he had already showered, probably to relieve the muscle tension left over from the spasm. He looked much more relaxed and comfortable than he appeared all day.  
"How ya feelin'?" He treaded lightly.  
"Alright."  
"You haven't looked too good lately."  
"I know. Haven't been feeling good lately."  
"You worry me, you know?"  
He turned and looked at Wilson's big brown eyes. His blues looked tired almost like they were asking for help, deep down, what the surface was afraid to say, his eyes were begging for it. "I know." He put his hand on Wilson's knee, rested it there. His head followed suit and rested on Wilson's shoulder. "I don't really want to talk about it. Makes me feel worse."  
"Meds working?"  
"You know they aren't."  
"Maybe I can fix it."  
"I'm beyond repair."

Wilson sighed hoping that he was just kidding, the uncomfortable annoyances he suffered through daily were the ones talking, not the real House. House sighed as well. Just being able to sit quietly with Wilson and stop moving for five minutes was enough to make everything subside for a few moments. He wished he could go back and make it all better before it got bad, but pondering what ifs only made the present seem worse. 

Wilson rested his chin on House's head following a kiss. He wished he could make it all better, could have avoided their current situation altogether but it wasn't possible. House rested on Wilson, slowly drifting off, finally pain free for the time being. 


	2. Chapter 2

Pain, Canes and Suffering  
Ch. 2

**By killing the time that kills you **Sexy plexi, Jack Johnson

Wilson arrived home after hearing that House had left early. The reason behind it was obvious, pain. He walked in to find the usual scene, him walking around in circles, pacing around the apartment to try to rid the pain. There once was a time when they joked that the pain would eventually kill him, previously the thoughts were laughed off but now that idea was getting to feel more and more real.

Wilson decided to go into the situation light heartedly and see where it got them.

"Would you quit doing laps? The NASCAR season is over."

"Training for next year." He said between breaths.

"How much Vicodin did you take?"

"Enough to kill a small horse."

He shook his head at House's comment. Even in pain he could joke about it, and a joke giving his recent track record was a good sign.

"Seriously. How many?"

"At least three since noon."

Wilson thought, great it's now almost five and he's had more than enough for the night at his rate. This made him think, are the new doses working?

"What else makes it better besides walking? Heat? Ice? Cutting it off?"

He knew that last one was a bad idea after he said it but he couldn't take it back. House stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Wilson from across the room.

"Don't you dare joke about that."

He continued pacing.

Usually Wilson had an idea of what made the pain subside but playing dumb occasionally worked to lighten the mood. Obviously it wasn't working today. He was torn between trying to get him through this pain, which could piss him off or giving him his 

space and returning to see how he was later. He went for the latter.

"I'm gonna take a shower. The door's open if you need anything." All he heard was a "yeah yeah" behind him accompanying the step thump of House's labored gate.

After a twenty minute shower Wilson was clean, warm and relaxed. Returning from the steamy bathroom clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt he found House uncomfortable and still in pain on the couch. He approached the back of the couch where House was massaging his thigh in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain.

"House." Wilson didn't really know what to say. Diving into the usual discussion about pain seemed stupid and redundant. So just saying his name seemed like the only thing left. Unsure of what he might reply with Wilson just waited until he was ready to respond.

"Two hours. Two hours I've been like this and it still hurts." House kept his head down and his hands working. Wilson walked around the couch and approached him. Kneeling beside him he tried to comfort him.  
"Let's unfold you and try to relax. You're too tense and that doesn't help a muscle spasm." House looked up and his watery blues met the dark browns, he threw in the towel and obeyed. No matter how much he hated admitting he needed help, pain always overcame pride. With time House was horizontal on the couch, leg propped with a pillow and Wilson's massaging hands taking over.

Eventually his breathing evened out and Wilson could feel his muscles relax not only in his thigh but his entire body. Exhaustion finally took over. Wilson managed to get him into bed just in time for House to get comfortable and sleep well for once.

Wilson rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty. Worried about more breakthrough pain, he rose from the warm bed and padded out to the living room. Again, House was sitting in the middle of the couch and looking much different than the last time he was in that position.

"What's up?" He didn't look like he was in pain this time, lucky for both of them.  
"Tense in my shoulders. Stiff, made it difficult to sleep."  
Wilson stood behind the couch and began to massage along House's shoulders. He could feel the knots from all that stooped walking with his cane, and the pacing he had done earlier didn't help. Between sighs and grunts House tried to talk. "You know you 

don't have to do this. I would have been fine."  
"Shut up and take advantage. It's not everyday I feel like being this nice to you." He said it with a smirk, the kind House can hear in his voice.  
"Aw you always feel like being nice, you enabler you." Once House started to relax and begin to fall asleep they both decided that it was time to turn back to that once warm bed. House had the last words before the returned to a peaceful slumber. "Let's take tomorrow off."


End file.
